


Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette

by MerelyLies



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: ???? how do people tag ever, Cigarettes, Comfort, F/M, not really shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 12:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerelyLies/pseuds/MerelyLies
Summary: He looked at her again, finally, his head slightly tilted. If he had breath, she imagined he would sigh. She wondered nonsensically what he would sound like, sighing.“Yeah. I know those types of days.”





	Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> Hello...I haven't written fanfiction since I was about 12, but I sporadically get angry about the lack of new fanfiction in the world for these two so here we go!

There’s not a lot that she had done whilst she had been away. Ruminating, resting, rigorously pushing her body, that was essentially the lot. Occasionally she had braved taking Xena for long, soul-sucking runs, where she could feel all the thoughts bleed away from her brain until all she could register was the thud thud thud on the grassy trails.

But one thing she had done was start smoking. Not often, just now and then as she was gazing at the stars, Xena sleeping, and she had needed the smoke in her lungs, the filter at her mouth to ground her and remind her she was alive. It went against everything her parents had taught her – hell, everything the world had taught her – but the chances of her death being due to sporadic cigarettes seemed laughably low. 

When she had moved back to Ireland, the new habit had followed. Not sociably, but after a mission, after a day that left her brain drained and dead, she would light one to calm herself. It was more of a reflex than anything else. The little packet of menthols that she never felt too chained to, but that certainly never ran out.

They were driving, as they always seemed to be doing these days. The radio was softly playing some nameless song that Skulduggery liked, and he tapped his gloves against the steering wheel in rhythm to it. The world outside seemed to blur and whizz around them, until it did not exist and left only them. The chalky white of his skull swirling and darkening as it hit shadows, the steady weight of her hands of her lap, the calming hum of the Bentley that soothed and nourished her. Just the two of them and nothing else in the world.

“Productive day today.” He said, and suddenly the illusion was broken and they were once against just two in billions. She startled, and then nodded, probably too enthusiastically.

“Yeah. Another bad guy caught. Lots of pizza. Good day.” She replied monosyllabically, watching the waves curl around the beach in the moonlight. If she squinted, she could almost see one of the many beasts of the water gazing back at her. 

She wondered absently if the creatures in the sea knew the name Darquesse.

Skulduggery hesitated, peering over at her almost nervously. She awaited the dreaded question. The question that seemed to follow her everywhere, these days.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep. Fantastic. Never felt better. Fan-fucking-tastic.” She bit back, regretting it immediately. He quickly focused on the road once more, and the world went quiet again. 

They drove a bit more.

“Sorry.” She finally sighed, tugging absently on her hair. 

“It’s alright.” He replied steadily, his eyes not leaving the road.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t be snapping. Especially not at you. It’s just one of those days today.” She admitted, sinking slightly into the seat. Even with him, she didn’t like admitting this. In many ways, she craved to be the person she was before – brash, cocky, shouting her emotions unabashedly whenever they rose to the surface. Now she just felt like a Hollow Man. 

“One of those days?” He asked calmly, as if they were discussing the weather. She nodded, although he still wasn’t looking at her.

“Yeah. You know like when you wake up and your brain is fuzzy and you can’t concentrate and all you can think about is all of those people who –” She broke off suddenly, and gazed down at her clasped hands. “When all you can think about is all of that.”

He looked at her again, finally, his head slightly tilted. If he had breath, she imagined he would sigh. She wondered nonsensically what he would sound like, sighing.

“Yeah. I know those types of days.”

They drove a little further, and then they were stopping, far earlier than she had expected. She gazed outside, confused. They were parked just off the beach, and she could see the waves clash angrily into tall, seemingly unbreakable cliffs, and dribble down to the shore where they attempted to roar once more. The sand was almost hidden under the dark of the night time, but even still she could see it, clear of life and stoically calm. 

“Why have we stopped?” She asked, but already he was getting out, and so she followed suit, trailing slightly as he led her to a rotting bench she had sat on licking ice creams as a child. He sat down, gestured for her to sit next to him. There was a moment of silence between them as they both watched the waves. 

“This is where I used to come, after it all. Not here, specifically, but to the sea. I always felt it helped – an interlude, almost, in the struggles of the mind.” His voice was quiet, and she very nearly couldn’t hear it over the water. His hand moved down to his pocket, and he brought out a packet of cigarettes. They weren’t the brand she bought, and she watched with confusion and he flicked open the lid and offered her one.

“Thanks,” she murmured, taking one. “Where did you get those?”

“You’re not the only one in the magical world who smokes, Valkyrie.” He replied almost jokingly, pulling out one of his own before lighting both of them. 

“How can you smoke? You can’t breathe.” She asked, inhaling and feeling her body relax, just a little.

He laughed lightly, and with the cigarette to his lips she was reminded vaguely of a painting, she’d seen once, but never bothered to remember any details of. 

“Valkyrie…. I manipulate air. Sure, it’s not going into my lungs exactly, but it’s going into something in my magical little manipulation of body.”

“Huh. I guess I never thought about that.” She answered, and they both turned back to the ocean, watching the rise and fall and crash and calm, that had its own rhythm and reason that she could never hope to grasp.

They sat there until the dawn broke, chain smoking and not talking, and when she finally rolled into bed, rays of sunshine breaking through the widow, her mind at last felt calm.


End file.
